What a day.....today was the day Isaac's teacher was to visit, much excitement was in our house, just last year she was Seth's teacher and a bit of a teacher's pet was he. The most favoured Dinosaurs and animals were set out on the shelf and a very big bendy snake was wrapped around the bottom of Seth's bed ( sure to terrify Mrs V, beloved teacher) I was sort of intruiged to see how this visit would go, following the unveiling of the devils spawn, in honour of Beverley the speech therapist's home visit...what stops would he pull out for one so mighty as a school teacher. Hard ( now I think of it) to imagine any kind of badness when Mrs V is around, she is the very epitome of lovely teacher, speaks to them exactly as I would hope for little people to be spoken to, firm and yet so touching with lots of " how marvellous" and " what rotten luck" not to mention " hooray you're back, I missed you -are you all well now?" But we all know my Isaac is a law unto himself and we always have to wait and see what his head will tell him.
His head told him that because Mrs V was at our house it was absolutely fine to talk to her as if she hears his sweet ( yet often too loud) voice every day. He looked right at her, he called her by name, he showed her his room, his football skills, his delicious laugh, he treated her to the fullness of his perfection.....we sat in the front courtyard in beautiful sunshine and he was divine. She was fabulous and managed not to allow her eyes to pop out of her head, here she was with this little boy who refuses to open his mouth for 6+ hours every day, who , when really, really desperate to communicate will mouth or whisper a minimum of words, hearing him shout, laugh, talk in long, clear sentences! I wonder what he will do tomorrow, will he forget that he has allowed her the priviledge of his at home voice? Will his head stop his mouth working? Time will tell, Mrs V says she is going to visit a few more times, hoping that he will become so sure of her that he will be brave and happy to talk freely ( she'll be sorry, you mark my words!!)
Mum has booked our accommodation for when we scatter dad's ashes. I'm more than a bit afraid of the whole thing if truth be told, I'm not a bit sure how I will feel when I clap eyes on whatever recepticle holds what is left of the physical body of my dad. The very thought has my heart thumping so hard I feel sick. I think I will just have to tell myself that this is the final thing we have to do for him, that after this we will just have to live our lives in a way that can make him proud...but this one thing has to be done before we can get on and do that.
The place has been decided and I think we all feel very happy with the decision. When we were younger, dad came across a farmhouse on the Moors in cornwall, somehow he contacted the owners ( it was delapitated and abandoned) and he was 'given' this house to use for the youth of the church, groups would stay there and work on the house, camp and experience the joys and hardships of such rugged countryside. He loved this place and I have no idea when it stopped or how long he was in charge of this project, I remember the trek to get to it......and my tale of the cross moors dash when wearing a parker with fur trimmed hood during a fox hunt was on one trek to the farmhouse! So his ashes will be scattered right there, on Bodmin moor, the weekend of mum's birthday in May. ( please let it be warm and sunny, the winds on those morrs are wicked at the best of times!!) We will all have a 4 day stay in a pretty Cornish town that mum, dad and Leah have stayed many a happy time......very good.